


Mansion House

by Kastaka



Category: Neil Gaiman - Neverwhere
Genre: Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2007
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-14 23:32:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kastaka/pseuds/Kastaka





	Mansion House

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sophia Prester](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sophia+Prester).



 

 

What had always puzzled Mr Croup was how Mansion House managed to maintain a formal garden, complete with butterflies and little tweeting birds, lit only by some grimy light-shafts topped by those lattices of thick-glass squares you see from time to time in the streets Above. Even the darkness of night was softly lit by candlelight escaping from the windows of the House itself. Mr Croup had never got on with Nature, not least because it would persist in littering the floor with dry twigs and calling birds when he was trying to be Subtle.

Mr Vandamar bit the head off a squirrel. "You do look funny when you're trying to sneak," he confided to his companion.

"Mister Vandamar," hissed Mr Croup in an irritated fashion, "What have I told you about speaking while I'm trying to be subtle?"

"You make entertaining noises," replied Mr Vandamar, "and you go all purple. And there aren't any guards."

"What about the servants, Mister Vandamar?"

"What about them?"

"They might raise the alarm, is all."

Mr Vandamar was so puzzled that he momentarily stopped stripping the fur off the squirrel to make a better snack. "They're *servants*," he offered, lamely.

Mr Croup tired of the discussion at this point, and the two proceeded towards the house in companionable silence, Mr Croup making some kind of attempt to walk quietly and stick to the shadows, Mr Vandamar strolling along in a carefree fashion picking caterpillars off the plants and dropping them in his mouth.

At length they came to the side wall, which featured a chute to the coal cellar. From there it was in fact a trivial matter to achieve the target's bedchamber: Vandamar's observation on servants proved to be quite accurate, as the mindless automata which ran the House entirely ignored the intruders save to clear up the coal dust in their wake. For once, the door opened without a sound - no ominous creaking in this palace of cleanliness and efficiency - and the two assassins padded quietly into the room, taking up positions on either side of the bed.

"Surprise," said Mr Vandamar, buring a ceremonial dagger into the surprised victim's chest.

"We brought you some silverware," added Mr Croup as the creature struggled and writhed, changing between forms in an ugly procession of horrors, pinned firmly by Vandamar's hand on the silver dagger. "Hope you like the pattern."

Eventually the struggles subsided. Leaving the dagger trapped neatly through the heart of the wolf, Mr Croup and Mr Vandamar vacated the premises, closing the bedroom door behind them, nodding to the butler, and striding down the wide entrance-path without a care in the world.

 


End file.
